I'm just a simple poet,
And well that I should know it,
Lest, deceived, my head should swell
Supposing that I write so well.

Never published, never cared,
Relieved to not have been compared
To those whose pens are more refined,
Who plumb the recondite sublime.

My pen is meant for simpler things,
To simply give my thoughts their wings.
Perhaps they will return to me,
Or perch in someone else's tree,

And maybe do a little good,
At least, I surely wish they would.
If only just a little smile,
Or shorten someone's weary mile,

Or maybe by the Maker's grace,
They'll draw someone to His embrace.
A simple poet's all I am,
And glad to be a simple man.

I’m untrained in literature and the creative arts, being an engineer by training and by trade, but obviously that doesn’t…